


Toad is a Little Shit

by Kokolo



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Brotherhood of Mutants, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Secret Relationship, Team Bonding, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokolo/pseuds/Kokolo
Summary: A prank backfires, and maybe Todd figures out what he’s not supposed to know.
Relationships: Lance Alvers/Pietro Maximoff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Toad is a Little Shit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on my Tumblr](https://whattheficery.tumblr.com/post/129716644439/fic-toad-is-a-little-shit) September 23, 2015.
> 
> Edited by the fabulous Mugsandpugs <3

Todd was nothing if not the Brotherhood punching bag. He knew they didn’t mean it, not really, because they never actually hurt him. They were a family - a literal Brotherhood- and Todd had always wanted some brothers. He’d wanted to be the oldest one at some point, sure, but he was okay dealing with being the youngest. And as the youngest, Todd couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t give as good as he got. So he gave his teammates some hell when they deserved it. 

Lance deserved it.

Both he and Pietro were up first, banging around the kitchen like they knew what they were doing. Todd squatted at the top of the stairs, planning his early-morning prank. It was the best way to start the day. He just needed Lance not to be near the stove or sharp objects, just in case he got a little too angry. Even if his yet-to-be-considered prank was totally justified, he was more than sure that Lance wouldn’t feel the same. He had a really good handle on his temper most of the time, sure, but he didn’t want the damn house caving in on his head because of poor comedic timing.

Behind him, he felt the familiar thudding of Freddy exiting his room. He shifted over on the landing, giving Fred ample space. He was sometimes too tired in the mornings to look down at his feet, and Todd was too busy thinking to deal with being tread on. To be extra safe, he cleared his throat some and spoke up.

“Hey Fred, what’s happenin’?”

“Nothin. Whatcha doin, Toad?”

“Thinkin. Tryin’ to start the day off right.”

“Oh.”

Fred paid Todd little mind, carefully stepping around him so he could scheme at the top of the stairs. By the time he got to the bottom, Todd leapt off the landing and onto his back, hanging onto his shoulders. Fred grunted and frowned, but didn’t throw Todd off. The smaller mutant was practically jumping in place, which usually meant he had an idea, which usually meant something funny was going to happen. Todd smacked Fred’s shoulder and leaned in close, all smiles.

“Wanna see somethin funny, Freddy?”

“Yeah.” Fred passed his hand over his mowhawk to make sure it sat right. “Whatcha gonna do?”

“I’m gonna make Lance look like a tomato in a second. You watchin?”

Todd hopped off and crept to the archway of the kitchen, peeking in. Lance lounged against the counter, reluctantly awake, watching Quicksilver sprint around the kitchen and listening to him chatter away. Todd had to admire Lance’s patients sometimes. He wasn’t sure if ‘Tro ever turned off. Sometimes he heard him yapping away at Lance in the middle of the night. Quiet for him, but distinctive and rapid-fire. And _he_ was labeled the annoying one.

Pushing the thought out of his head, Todd turned to Fred and waved at him to pay attention. Fred nodded, rubbing his hands together. He could always count on Fred to enjoy a good prank. Todd grinned and straightened himself out, brushed his imaginary lapels, and strolled into the kitchen as casually as possible. He glanced back at Fred, took a deep breath, and announced to the kitchen, smug and congratulatory as he could muster:

“Hey yo- nice hickey man!” 

A funny thing happened, then. Ha-ha funny first, because Lance reacted exactly like he was supposed to, red face and smacking his hand over his neck where Kitty-cat’s love bite might have been. But then something not so ha-ha funny, more _huh_ funny, more perplexing, because Pietro did the exact same thing. And while Lance glared at Todd, Pietro was staring wide eyed at Lance’s back. 

Pietro was gone in the next instant. Lance wasn’t nearly as fast. He seethed quietly and rubbed neck and fake laughed at Todd, grumbling at him about it being too early for stupid comments. He shoved Todd into the doorjamb for good measure, then out the front door past the laughing Freddy, who clutched his stomach and snorted.

“Hahah- you got both of them. Nice!” Fred held up his hand for the high-five. Todd blindly smacked his wrist a few times. 

“No no - dude. Wait.” Todd looked at him, then back at the empty kitchen. “There’s something up.”

Left hanging, Fred lowered his hand. “I don’t get it.” Usually Todd would have never left him hanging like that. 

“I don’t either. I’m gonna find out, Fred. I’ll keep you posted.”

\---

There was definitely something up. 

They’d both been avoiding him. It wasn’t entirely a new thing. Pietro was openly disgusted by him most of the time, and the longer he went without a shower the less Lance seemed to tolerate prolonged presence. But now it was different. Now Pietro vanished before he could pass the threshold. Now Lance was looking down or away from him. He’d opened up a little more the longer time passed, but eye contact still wasn’t happening. That was a little more than weird coming from the guy who would stare Mystique down. 

They’d been arguing a lot. That wasn’t entirely new either. Lance and Pietro were, in Boom Boom’s words, sitcom married. Lance was the haggard, overworked mom and Pietro the whining trophy wife. They quarreled over stupid things and it was over in thirty minutes, maximum. But their arguments had always been bombast and large. Overdrawn. Now, they were always rushed, quiet words, a whispered war entirely too close together. Every time Todd caught them in the same room, the argument abruptly stopped, usually because Pietro bolted mid-word. Lance refused to elaborate, brushing Todd off, marking it as private and making a much slower escape.

And that wasn’t the only thing Todd was noticing. He wasn’t the smartest, no, but he had a pretty decent memory, and since no one was talking to him except Freddy, he had a lot of time to think. He’d picked apart that morning over and over again until he was sure he hadn’t been seeing things. Pietro had reacted badly when accused of having a hickey, even though the guy routinely pulled four or five dates a night. What’s more, he looked at Lance. Just Lance. 

That wasn’t the only time ‘Tro had looked at just Lance or done something for just Lance either. Sure, they were good friends, and good friends did things for each other, unless one of those friends was Pietro, who was better than everyone else. But how often had Pietro run out to grab something that just Lance needed - like a car part or headache medicine or even some coffee? How many times had he done what Lance asked, just because Lance asked him? 

And it wasn’t just Pietro. Lance would go out of his way too. He’d go out of his way for all of them, yeah, but he’d go extra far for Pietro. He’d wait up for the guy who didn’t sleep when he ran off to God knows where. He’d offer rides to the guy who could outspeed the bullet train- hell, he’d let him drive the Jeep - something Todd only got away with when Avalanche was unconscious (something he was not at all jealous about).

That wasn’t even touching on how they were just _close._ They had nicknames for each other that no one else really used, private jokes and pranks that they found hilarious and wouldn’t explain. Todd had lost count of how many times they’d gone off for rides in the Jeep together on scouting missions (for food, mostly), or how often they’d be the only ones awake early in the morning, chatting in the kitchen. He couldn’t remember a time where they didn’t take the seats next to each other on the couch, or at the table, or anywhere, really. How many times had he caught them smiling at each other, ruffling hair, fixing collars and shirts, teasing each other with dull barbs and shoving that lasted a little too long and written it off as nagging? Todd had chalked it up to the old married couple thing - but had he missed the point? Were they actually together under all that bullshit?

No one seemed to want to give him a straight answer. 

\---

Eventually, Todd got sick of beating around the bush and gathering evidence. He was going to corner them, which was much easier said than done, but he needed answers. This garbage was driving him nuts, and even if he had to slime Quicksilver in place and face his wrath, he was going to get his answer.

Luckily enough for him, by the time he got home, Lance’s Jeep was in the driveway. Fred reported between mouthfuls of food that everyone was home, that Lance and Pietro had gone to their rooms like usual. They hadn’t even bothered to discuss dinner, which was looking to be pretty meek, considering the state of the cupboards. Todd wasn’t particularly interested in that either, so he muttered something about pickpocketing and leapt up the stairs, intending on confronting both of them in quick succession. 

Except Pietro’s room was empty. 

Todd almost made the mistake of leaping down the hall, but Pietro’s door was clearly, visibly open from the landing, and he caught himself on the railing before he could take off. Lance’s door was shut. He crept toward the closed door and strained to hear. Like so many nights before, there was that same rushed, quiet talking Todd ignored in favor of getting back to his bed. Like those nights too, he couldn’t even begin to decipher what was being said. But there were two voices, and that was more than enough for him.

He bounced back down the steps as quietly as he could manage. Fred looked at him hopefully and Todd motioned for him to shush, which he did. 

“What’s happening?” He stage whispered, looking around shifty-eyed.

“Somethin’.” Todd answered. “Stay put. I’ll be back.”

“You gonna go steal some food?”

“Sure yeah. Shh.”

“Oh.” Fred eased, then tensed again. “Need backup?”

“Nah man. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Fred nodded and saluted, leaning back in his chair. Todd crept back out of the house, making his way over the fence and around the side with as little noise as he could manage. It was harder to do than he anticipated - they really did need to work on maintaining the damn yard, or at least steal a lawn mower. 

Todd kicked his way through some long grass. A short moment of mental math and he found Lance’s window, and saw a shadow pass in front of it. He dove out of the way, but the figure moved back and forth, quickly, obviously preoccupied. Todd worked back into position, steadied himself, and spat on his hands. He was almost sure this might work, maybe. Frustrated with lack of answers, he went for it, leaping at the wall underneath Lance’s bedroom, clinging there. He scrambled up to grab the sil, praying that no one inside or outside the Brotherhood was looking out into their yard. A beat passed. Some bit of conversation floated out of the window, and Todd strained to hear it. 

“And what do we tell _them,_ huh?” Pietro was saying, his voice above a whisper now that he was this close. “Well? Any ideas, blabbermouth?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You might as well have! Don’t you sigh at me-”

Todd’s grip slipped and he held his breath. The conversation turned loud for a second, snipped floating above his head, landing elsewhere. Then it went quiet again. He was bold enough to curl his hands around the edge of the window and lift himself up to peek in. Lance sat on his bed, chin in hand, looking at the wall. Pietro stood in the middle of the room, stiff, hands folded behind his back, then unfolded and crossed over his chest. Lance sighed and Todd ducked down, then poked his head back up just enough to see Lance had shrugged, giving up on whatever he was thinking.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Lance stretched out and looked up at Pietro, holding out his hand. “C’mere.”

“Really? After all of that? That’s all you have to say about this?"

"C'mere."

"Perv."

Lance didn’t seem to care that Pietro was still tense. He curled his fingers in, gesturing in come-hither motion Todd had only seen on TV. The stupid trick made Pietro laugh, oddly enough. He looked worried still, but took the offered hand and sank onto the bed beside him, beneath him. Lance rolled over him, bracing himself on his elbows, sinking down to whisper in his ear and then turning his head to do a little more than whispering. Pietro shut his eyes, all smiles now, muttering something and disappearing one hand between them. Lance unearthed himself from the offered neck and bowed forward, kissing him, and that was when Todd rested his elbow on the windowsill and nodded to himself.

“I knew it.”

Pietro vanished from underneath Lance. Lance fell to the bed with an oomph, immediately pushing himself up and whipping around to the open window. Pietro already had Toad up by his collar, half dragged over the windowsill. He sputtered, looked to Lance, back to Toad, and tried for words. Lance beat him to it, clearing his throat.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Lance said as he stumbled off the bed. 

“Oh?” Toad looked to Pietro, who was glaring at Lance, who was already putting his hands up defensively. He pointed to Lance’s legs. “Your fly’s undone.”

“Listen Wart Boy!” Pietro said suddenly, high and strained, pulling Todd into the room to shove him into a solid surface. “You tell anyone and I mean _anyone-”_

“Cool it Quicky.” Todd laid his hands over Pietro’s, much to Pietro’s immediate disgust. “Who the hell am I gonna tell? Fred? He won’t give a shit. Happy for you guys, by the way.”

Lance at least looked appreciative at his kind words. He gestured for Pietro to drop him, and surprisingly Pietro listened. Todd filed away that special ability for later, more dire situations. He regarded his teammates with a raised eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. Lance worried his lip. Pietro flickered between humiliated rage and unaffected calm, but couldn’t hold on to either. Lance rubbed his face and opened his mouth to speak, then turned when he remembered his fly was down. Pietro finally broke and gave a pained cry, pressing both hands to his forehead, then turning on Toad with such malice he almost considered jumping out the window. 

“Look Todd- can we just… keep this under wraps for a while?” Lance interrupted, making his way between both boys. His gaze flicked to Pietro and his tight frown, then back to Todd. “Not that we’re ah, questioning it’s more of a… privacy issue. Right Pietro?”

“Yeah sure, Mazel Tov.” Todd shrugged. He stopped for a second and looked to Pietro. “Wait,  was that inappropriate?”

“Get. Out.” Pietro seethed through clenched teeth.

“Okay, all right fine. Geeze.”

Todd brushed off his shirt and made to stroll out the door. Lance was visibly eased, but still stood between him and Pietro, who was still infuriated. He took note of Lance’s errant hand reaching back blindly to clasp Pietro’s fist, making note of yet another useful move Lance could use against Pietro in tough situations. Indeed, Quicksilver's fury dampened, the red rage on his face replaced by embarrassment. Todd almost felt bad enough to let it alone, but by the time he made it to the threshold, he found that he could’t resist one last, final little quip.

“Use protection kids- you don’t know where ‘Tro’s been.”

“OUT!”

Whatever Pietro threw at him missed, avoided by a well placed hop. Todd cackled down the hallway, leaping into his room. The door to Lance’s room slammed shut and Todd returned the gesture. Instead of yelling, he collapsed against the wood, holding his stomach, laughing harder than he had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Todd is a little shit and I love him even if he’s essentially a slimeball. Whatever man he’s the annoying little brother. I love all my trash children.


End file.
